


Confessions

by Dalektable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Calthazar, Catholic School boys, Demisexual Cas, Demisexual Castiel, Implied Demisexual Castiel, M/M, Priest Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalektable/pseuds/Dalektable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two catholic school boys, one confessional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working diligently on this work, so if there are any mistakes, I would love to know what they are. I keep intending to re-read over it, but I have so many new Calthazar fics that I'm working on that I just never get around to it. Plus, this ship needs more fanfiction, let's be honest. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. :)

“Balthazar,” Castiel said, his voice loud in the small, wooden confessional. Despite only being seventeen, his voice was already deep and raspy, like a smoker, despite never having smoked a day in his life. “This is a very bad idea.”

“No, this is a very _good_ idea.” He grinned and pulled Castiel in for a kiss. 

Castiel had wanted to join the clergy at five years old, and before he'd met Balthazar, he would have felt queasy at the idea of doing something like this. Now? He couldn't stand the thought of being away from him. 

Balthazar's hands were blasphemous worship, the way they walked their path along the well-worn paths of his body with ease, praying at every place of worship, taking Castiel to Heaven before his time. 

But this was not the time for such worship. 

This was the time to keep quiet and crammed into this small space, because despite the fact that no one else seemed to be around, their voices echoed louder than they were used to. They weren't sneaky like they thought they were—just lucky. It would have been hard to misunderstand the noises of soft kissing coming from the small booth, even for a priest. 

Castiel's hands found their way into Balthazar's hair, holding on as though he were falling. 

(And although he wasn't falling in the physical sense, falling for Balthazar wasn't a one-time event. Rather, it was a consistent string of little falls, leading him in so deep he'd have no way of getting out—leading him in so deep he didn't want out. )

Balthazar was nipping at the skin of Castiel's neck, not hard enough to leave evidence, but enough to leave Castiel panting into the small confessional that closed them in and surrounded them. His hands clutched hopelessly at the uniform that covered Balthazar's back, ducked his head to try and steal a kiss. But Balthazar wordlessly refused, continuing his kisses down Cas' neck, down his collarbone. His hands began to roam, in true Balthazar fashion, over Castiel's ass, on his hipbones (where they lingered a little longer), and down to his zipper. His fingers moved swiftly, popping each button with one graceful motion, and pulling the zipper down smoothly. 

Castiel licked his lips at Balthazar's hands snuck into the stiff fabric of his pants, rubbing him over his cotton underwear. His mouth was still on Castiel's neck, open but not busy, save the occasional light kiss. 

Castiel had perked up since they'd begun, but only partly so. At first, he had used to worry that Balthazar would take offense to this, assume that he was broken, or he didn't want him. But Balthazar hadn't felt that way; he'd kissed Castiel and and rubbed and kissed until he was ready. Perhaps it was the years of repressing everything on his way to become a priest, or just the way he was born, because in all his seventeen years, Balthazar had been the only one he had ever even considered in this way. 

The idea of doing this with anyone else just seemed disgusting. 

Balthazar kissed Castiel deeply before sinking slowly to his knees.

“Balthazar,” Castiel said again, his warning tone ruined by the hoarseness of his voice. 

“Shush,” Balthazar said, pulling Castiel's cock out of his underwear and giving it a light kiss with moist lips.

Castiel, having never even touched himself before, was overly sensitive to physical touch. When Balthazar touched him softly, almost gingerly, he was biting his lip and digging his fingers into the other boy's back. Balthazar gave him a playful smile and brushed his thumb over the tip, once, twice. Cas bit back a small noise, letting it die in his throat, among all the other words he never said. 

_“I love you,”_ they never said. _“You mean the world to me. Thank you, thank you for existing. I love you. I love you. I don't deserve you. I love you.”_

Instead of speaking, though, he ran his hands over Balthazar's shoulders, stroked his cheek with one thumb, reverence soaking his every gesture. Balthazar looked up, making brief eye contact, and the feelings swelled inside of Castiel's chest. 

“You always wear your heart on your sleeve,” Balthazar said before closing his mouth over Castiel's newly hardened dick, pushing any thoughts Castiel had about that out of his head. He began slowly, focusing merely on the head, tongue lavishing prayers in a language Casitel wished he could understand. His hands clenched and unclenched in a stable rhythm, one still on Balthazar's back, the other scrabbling to find purchase on the unyielding confessional seat. It was a gentle beginning, all in all, misleading in its softness. 

But they'd been doing this long enough that Casitel knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. 

Sure enough, Balthazar changed from soft to hungry quickly, his mouth sucking hard and working its way slowly down, until he'd reached the base, public hair tickling his nose. Casitel's breath grew labored, the muscles in his body clenching. 

Balthazar pulled off with a loud, wet noise that echoed around the small booth. He looked up, hands on Castiel's hips, and smiled. 

“Do you seek penance, my child?” Castiel narrowed his eyes, not sure about this game. He was hard and aching, something that rarely happened outside of these experiences with Balthazar. Castiel wasn't used to dealing with the uncomfortableness of it. 

But when he didn't say anything in return, Balthazar just moved his fingers gently along Castiel's hips, tracing invisible patterns along the skin. He thought he felt a “B” being carefully, lovingly traced, but he wasn't sure. 

Castiel couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh as he made the sign of the cross over his body, Balthazar watching carefully. 

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned; it is three days since my last confession. I accuse myself of the following sins,” the recitation was essentially a muscle memory for Castiel now, he had been doing it for so long. “I have had impure thoughts, Father.” 

“Mmm,” Balthazar hummed, “Me, too.” his eyes lazily gave Castiel a once-over in the dim lighting, hand sneaking down to stroke Castiel once more.

“But he's a man, Father, and I have thought about him in every possible way, in every situation. And it is more than thoughts, as well. We have been together, in the flesh. I have seen him the way God intended and he is beautiful.”

Balthazar smiled and ducked his head to resume his previous activities. Castiel's breath caught in his throat, but he pushed past it and continued to speak. 

“I have felt his lips around me, his body around me. I have put my mouth on him, as well, and I enjoyed it. “

Balthazar hummed, deep in his throat, and Castiel assumed that was a good sign, because he didn't stop. He gasped as Balthazar's tongue hit a particularly wonderful spot, pushing his hand into Balthazar's hair. 

“I have held him down and seen him come,” he continued. “I have watched him during mass, thinking of the forbidden things we do. I have dreamed of him sprawled out underneath me. I have spent days with him, our clothes still on, and days with him with no need for such indulgences. God, Father--”

Castiel always got a little blasphemous when he was close, and Balthazar held his hips back against the confessional wall. 

_“God,”_ he said again. “Balthazar.”

Balthazar pulled off and said cheekily, “ _Father_ Balthazar.”

“Father,” Casitel corrected, voice tight with effort as the pleasant sensations returned once again, the wetness of Balthazar's mouth familiar and strange all at once. “Father, I think about him all the time. I think about him while I lie awake in bed, while I am in class, when I shower. He is an all-consuming presence in my mind and I don't—I love it. I love _him_.” He was babbling now, voice growing louder without constraint, without worry about their surroundings. “ _I love him._ I—forgive me, Father. Forgive me.”

The crescendo of his voice broke, breathlessness and sorrow and pure joy amounting together, and Balthazar was swallowing everything. Castiel let out a groan. The tenseness in his body pooled at the floor and he pulled Balthazar up for a kiss. 

“God the Father of mercies, “ Balthazar said when he had pulled away, his voice low and sultry. “through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. “ He led a line of small kisses along the line of Castiel's neck. “Through the ministry of the church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” 

He pressed his lips chastely to Cas'. “Amen.”


End file.
